


Crisis on Dinosaur World: A Marvel Zombies Tale

by SteveGon1966



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Zombies - Fandom
Genre: Bronze Age, Crossover, Dinosaurs, Gen, Horror, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveGon1966/pseuds/SteveGon1966
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devil Dinosaur! The Legion of Monsters! Skull the Slayer! Lots of zombies! 'Nuff said!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis on Dinosaur World: A Marvel Zombies Tale

**Author's Note:**

> The characters used in this story are the properties of their respective creators and/or Marvel Comics. They are used herein for entertainment purposes only.

Crisis on Dinosaur World: A Marvel Zombies Tale

Chapter 1

Dinosaur World steamed under a primeval sun. Roiling oceans smashed at jagged continents. Pterodactyls lumbered through the sky, the lush jungle below them barely stifling the cries of creatures fighting with tooth and claw to survive another day. In the Valley of Flame a massive volcano erupted and the ground trembled beneath its fury. It was a harsh and unforgiving land and yet life persisted, seemingly in defiance of the gods who had yet to finish their ungainly creation. It was the world of Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy.

The young hominid called Moon-Boy clung to Devil Dinosaur's back as the mighty tyrannosaur crested a ridge. Devil halted as he spied the Valley of Flame spread out before them. Moon-Boy belonged to the tribe of Dawn Men called the Small Folk. The Small Folk had lived in the Valley of Flame for as long as they could remember. They were naturally wary of the fierce creatures who roamed the jungled floor of the valley and Devil was the fiercest of them all. Fiercer even than the Killer Folk, a warlike tribe of Dawn Men who wanted the Valley of Flame for themselves.

Moon-Boy chittered and clapped the side of Devil's muscular neck. "We are home!" he cried in the guttural language of the Dawn Men, "And what stories we have to tell my people!"

Devil grumbled. He remembered how Moon-Boy's tribe hated him, how they feared his kind. They would not welcome him back.

Devil had been little more than a hatchling when Moon-Boy happened upon him. The Killer Folk had trapped Devil's mother and brood on the flank of a volcano and slaughtered all but Devil. Devil would have died too, had the fire mountain had not shown its anger. The earth had spit out fire and ash and the Killer Folk had run away. Devil himself was unharmed, though his flesh had turned red. Why that should be and why Devil had survived at all was a mystery. The Small Folk elders said the gods had marked Devil as their own.

The two younglings had adopted each other. But as Devil grew bigger and stronger, the frightened Small Folk no longer wanted him around.

"Devil must leave the valley!" they had cried, "For one day he may hunger for us!"

Moon-Boy pleaded with his tribe. "The Killer Folk would have smashed us were it not for Devil!" he reminded them. Indeed, Devil had turned back more than one attack by the Killer Folk. But in the end Moon-Boy failed to change their minds and left with Devil to explore the world outside the valley.

Moon-Boy and Devil Dinosaur had shared many adventures together. The great red beast had defeated a host of deadly creatures in raging battles. They had skirted dangerous fire mountains and stared in awe at endless waters that stretched as far as the eye could see. They had wandered deep canyons and dank caves full of the bones of ancient beasts long gone from the world. But by far their strangest journey had been to another world entirely. Moon-Boy still did not understand how they had travelled there and back. It was a trick of the gods he thought.

The other world had been a noisy and confusing place with great villages of stone and iron. It was home to the Strange Folk, who clothed themselves in colors the like of which Moon-Boy had never seen. They talked their own talk and some possessed fantastic, god-like powers. Eventually the Strange Folk learned to speak to Moon-Boy and told him of "time" and "space" and other things he barely understood. Like the great waters, their world overwhelmed him and so he asked the Strange Folk to send him and Devil home. Moon-Boy longed for the dangerous but simple life of Dinosaur World. He wanted to see the Valley of Flame again.

The Strange Folk had done as Moon-Boy asked. They had sent them home. Moon-Boy and Devil were happy to be back in their own world and time. Still, Moon-Boy missed his new friends and hoped some day to see them again.

Devil grunted and stomped his feet. The Valley of Flame lay before them, blanketed under rushing storm clouds. The sky rumbled and raked the ground with flashes of lightning. Moon-Boy laughed and scratched Devil's head. "Come, my impatient friend," he said, "Let us return to the Valley of Flame and the shelter of the trees!"

Chapter 2

A Stark Industries quinjet streaked over the Atlantic Ocean. Instead of the usual Avengers logo, a stylized "L" marked the quinjet's two tail fins. Jim Scully and Daimon Hellstrom sat in the cockpit. Scully was bored and fidgety. He was a warrior and hated long stretches of inactivity. Hellstrom sat in rigid silence, staring out the window as if he could glean meaning from the ether. He was no fun on long flights.

Scully and Hellstrom were better known as Skull the Slayer and the Son of Satan. Together they headed The Legion of Monsters, a motley team of freakish superheroes. The Legion was returning from a successful mission in Europe, Dracula and the Acolytes of Darkness having been defeated once again.

Skull sighed and rapped his fingers on the window glass, hoping to get Daimon's attention. The Son of Satan wasn't much of a conversationalist. He also didn't appreciate fun maneuvers such as steep dives and loops. Nothing to break up his precious monotony. His brooding, really. Skull had never known anyone who liked to brood as much as Daimon. Skull understood though, that being the halfbreed son of the Devil entitled Daimon to a certain degree of moodiness.

Suddenly the cockpit view screen crackled to life and the face of Morbius the Living Vampire took shape in front of them. Michael Morbius was also a member of the Legion but he had elected to stay behind in New York to work on one of his experiments. Morbius was on an endless quest to find a cure for his vampiric condition. Skull also suspected that Morbius was loathe to face Dracula. The Lord of Vampires held sway over his bloodsucking kin, a power that included Morbius. Skull knew his friend would rather die than exist as such an evil creature as Dracula.

"Don't come back!" Morbius said, "It's spreading too fast!" He leaned back to reveal a jagged wound to his shoulder. "It's infecting even me! There's not much time--" The view screen flashed and went dark. Skull and Daimon exchanged worried glances. What was that all about?

Daimon toggled a switch but the Legion's private frequency refused to give up anything more than static. Frowning, he jabbed a key and the view screen lit up again, flooding the cockpit with an alarming news report.

"The infection started in New York and is eclipsing the globe at a tremendous pace," stated a visibly nervous CNN anchor, "The supers, both heroes and villains, are the vector. Avoid them at all costs!"

"My father told me this day would come," Daimon intoned, "The day will come when the dead will ravage the Earth. And on that day even Satan shall perish."

Clenching the armrests on either side of him, Skull felt numb and weightless, as if his soul were floating away in the dark reaches of space. "The dead?" he asked Daimon, "What does that mean? Dead like Simon?"

"Not like Simon." replied Daimon.

The news anchor tilted his head to listen to someone offscreen. Then he turned back to the camera, his face drained of color. "We now have a live feed from New York," he said with a tremor in his voice, "And I've been warned that this footage is extremely graphic."

A dizzying panorama of Times Square flashed on the screen. The camera slowed and focused on the creature known as the Hulk. The green goliath was a creature of rage but Skull and Daimon could see that he was now possessed by something other than anger. Over the screams of terrified New Yorkers he could be heard bellowing one phrase over and over: "Hulk hungry!"

Daimon and Skull watched in horror as the crazed Hulk snatched up a man cowering behind a car. Stuffing the man's head into his mouth, the Hulk bit down. He seemed to enjoy the final seconds of terror, the spurting blood, the gush of entrails and the crunch of bone. "Hulk want more!" he roared, "More meat!"

The cameraman quickly panned away as two costumed figures converged on the Hulk. Skull recognized them as the White Tiger and the Blue Shield. Minor heroes who were hardly a match for the jade giant. Someone screamed just as the footage was cut off.

Skull frowned and thumbed a button on the control column in front of him. "Dammit! Can't this bird fly any faster?"

Daimon looked at Skull and shook his head. "You know we're going as fast as we can." He turned away from Skull, eyes closed and face turned to stone. "I'm not so sure speed matters now. It may already be too late."

"What's going on?" asked Jack Russell, poking his head into the cockpit. Jack was the werewolf member of the Legion of Monsters. Suffering from a family curse, he had finally learned to control his changes. Still, it was difficult for Jack to keep his lupine form in check. The werewolf was always there, snarling and slashing, always threatening to upset the delicate balance of Jack's two selves.

The CNN report continued. "This is the end. Prepare yourselves." The anchor, now sobbing, winked out and was replaced by a "Please Stand By" alert. Deep inside Jack Russell the werewolf growled.

Suddenly the quinjet's emergency alert system activated. Red lights bathed its interior and a warning klaxon whooped. Skull hammered at the dashboard with his powerful fists. "What the hell is going on?"

The noise faded and was replaced by the voice of Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D. "If you can hear this, know that the helicarrier has been overrun by zombies. We tried to hold them off but they're just too powerful. I don't have much time. Find a safe place to regroup and fight back! Don't let them win!" The intercom squawked and lapsed into silence.

Daimon's mood darkened, like the moon eclipsed. "I can't raise anyone on the com," he said, "The Baxter Building, the Pentagon, Project Pegasus, the Pit, Avengers Mansion. None of them are answering."

Dread settled over the cockpit like a shroud. Jack Russell gripped the edges of the doorway tightly. Inside him the werewolf scented fear and coiled in anticipation. Jack wanted so badly to change. A fight was coming and the Werewolf wanted its share of blood. Not since its battle with Ursa Major had the Werewolf been so excited.

"It's okay, Jack," said Greer Nelson, the beautiful werecat known as Tigra, "Just calm down."

Greer Nelson had once been human, the meek widow of a police officer killed in the line of duty. Sometime later a combination of science and sorcery changed her modest form into an alluring blend of female and feline traits. Despite her provocative new body, Tigra was seen as something alien and was never truly accepted by the people she fought for. In that regard she was much like the mutant X-Men. She drifted from super team to super team until she found a home with the Legion of Monsters. It was with them that she blossomed into a capable and confident crimefighter. She had also turned into an incurable flirt.

The tension in the quinjet increased to a suffocating level. Putting aside her vivacious nature, Tigra stood behind Jack Russell and stroked his arms as a caring friend would, trying to coax his lupine alter ego into submission. She understood animal nature all too well.

Behind Tigra, seated in the quinjet's passenger cabin, were the other members of the Legion of Monsters. N'Kantu the Living Mummy sat pensively, studying his reflection in a window. Cursed to a withered existence for thousands of years, N'Kantu sensed the end was near and welcomed it. But for his friends he would fight it.

Across from N'Kantu sat the infamous Frankenstein monster, the hulking jigsaw man brought to life two hundred years earlier by a mad baron obsessed with life and death. The monster stared down at his massive hands, as if steeling them for battle. His thoughts were the same as N'Kantu's. One glorious final battle, then at long last, peace.

In the rear of the passenger cabin sat Simon Garth, the dead man known simply as the Zombie. No thoughts coursed through Garth's brain, no blood rushed through his veins. His dead heart hung limp within his breast. He would remain insensate until prodded into action by Skull the Slayer via the mystical Amulets of Damballah. One of two such artifacts necklaced Garth, the other was possessed by Skull. Through it he controlled the Zombie.

Skull absentmindedly rubbed his amulet, a token passed to him from the sorceress Jennifer Kale. "Zombies!" he muttered, "Super-powered zombies! God help us!"

Simon Garth's hands twitched and he lifted his head. A low moan, or maybe it was a sigh, escaped his lips. He too, hungered for the peace of the grave.

There were other members of the Legion of Monsters not present. The huge Colossus still rested on the bottom of the Pacific where it had settled after a disastrous bout with Godzilla. Thankfully S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Red Ronin robot had taken up the gauntlet thrown down by the great lizard. The Legion had other worries after the mighty clash. Brother Voodoo, who controlled the Colossus, had suffered serious injuries in the fight. He had turned over leadership of the Legion to Skull and Daimon and disappeared. No one knew where he'd gone, or if he was ever coming back.

A menagerie of bizarre creatures fluttered through Skull's brain like angry crows. The muck creature known as the Man-Thing had trudged back to his beloved Florida swamp after his battle with the Manphibian. The monolithic Golem stood guard over the Legion's headquarters in New York. The man called Gabriel the Devil Hunter was lost in his own private hell, having given in to drink and despair. Hannibal King and Ulysses Bloodstone had died in battle on Monster Island. The supernatural entity called the Scarecrow helped out only on rare occasions. The Man-Wolf had been cured of his lycanthropic condition. The She-Hulk had quit the Legion after a disastrous affair with Skull. The demonic Ghost Rider hadn't been seen in months. He was likely haunting the roads of the American west, the only place on Earth where he seemed to find peace.

There were a few who owed primary allegiance to other super teams. The Gargoyle spent most of his time with the Defenders. The young Wolfsbane was still in training with the New Mutants. The Beast and Nightcrawler seemed to prefer the company of the X-Men. The formidable Sasquatch rarely left Alpha Flight and his beloved Canadian wilderness.

The satellite members of the Legion of Monsters were an irascible, inscrutable and unreliable bunch. Skull still wished they were present. This new crisis gave him a very bad feeling.

"Where can we go?" asked Daimon, "Fury isn't a milksop. If this is as bad as he says we need time to plan."

"I know a place," said Skull, "But it's not so safe."

Skull set a new course and the quinjet rocketed south towards the Bermuda Triangle. The Legion of Monsters was headed towards a dimensional barrier that led to an alternate Earth. A dangerous, primordial world of dinosaurs and alien menace.

Chapter 3

"Sorry about the rough trip!" Skull called out to the other members of the Legion as the quinjet settled with a jolt. He flicked a switch and the aircraft powered down. Skull turned to Daimon, whose face was creased with worry.

"You okay, Damien?" asked Skull, "Your trident get bent or something?" The Son of Satan remained silent for a moment. He didn't appreciate Skull's humor.

"It's Daimon as you well know," he replied, "And I think something hit us as we were going through the dimensional barrier."

Skull shrugged. "I felt it too, but it's always a bumpy ride. It was probably just an air pocket." Skull turned and looked into the passenger cabin. His teammates were restless. "Well, let's take a look and see where we are."

The Legion of Monsters stood on the edge of a wide, rippled plain that was pegged in its center with a smoke-capped volcano. Jagged volcanic rocks studded the barren landscape, guarding their distant progenitor like a hardscrabble army. The ancient basaltic flow gradually faded into a fern-covered lowland that ended abruptly at a ridge overlooking a deep valley swathed in jungle. At the far end of the valley lay another volcano, spewing clouds of ash and rivers of lava.

Skull stood silently, taking in the view. He seemed troubled and uncertain.

"So this is where you were trapped before?" asked Jack Russell.

Skull continued to study the primitive terrain. He could feel the ground vibrating through his boots, tremors radiating from the far off volcano. The heat and humidity took his breath away. "I don't know if this is the same world," he said, "Or maybe it is, but later."

"Later?" asked Daimon Hellstrom.

"Yeah," answered Skull, "I think time flows differently in this place. Who knows how long it's been since I was last here. Or maybe this is before I was here."

Jack Russell stretched his limber frame and inhaled sharply. He hated the confines of the quinjet and was glad to be in the open air. The smell of the new world was inviting and reminded him of the Savage Land. Jack wanted to free the beast within him. "Anyone up for a run through the jungle?" he asked with a grin.

N'Kantu and the Frankenstein monster looked at Jack. Neither of them could manage more than a shamble.

Tigra was perched on one of the quinjet's wings. "Do we have to stay here?" she grumbled, "This wet heat is hell on my fur."

Daimon Hellstrom almost laughed. "Heat? This is nothing!"

"Cut the banter," growled Skull, "Don't you realize how bad the situation is?"

Jack Russell curled his fingers into claws. "We're monsters! How bad could it get?"

A flash of red and white showed Jack how bad it could get. One second Tigra was there and the next she was gone, carried aloft by the hero known as Stingray.

"Let me go, you freak!" screamed Tigra. The panic in her voice startled even Simon Garth, still sitting in the dark interior of the quinjet. Tigra raked Stingray with her claws, forcing him down onto the rocky ground.

"Jack! With me!" commanded Skull, "Daimon, stay here with the others!"

Tigra and Stingray were a flurry of orange, red and white. Claws slashed and teeth gnashed. Skull and Jack could hear the slicing of flesh, the sickening scrape of nails on bone. Then, suddenly, the battle ended with a bloodcurdling shriek.

Skull stopped and grabbed Jack's arm, halting his advance. "Hold up," he said grimly, "I think this is the bad part."

Stingray was hunched over Tigra's still form, moving in a herky-jerky fashion. Blood pattered on the rocks and orange fur wafted through the air. "Mmm. Warm kitty flesh!" he moaned. Jack Russell paled. Even in his werewolf form he'd never done anything close to what Stingray was doing to Tigra.

Stingray had disembowled Tigra and was slurping up a rope of intestine. Each time he swallowed a piece he muttered an obscenity. Unholy rantings that Skull and Jack Russell could hardly bear to listen to.

Skull and Jack slowly approached Stingray from behind but a skittering rock loosed by Jack's shoe gave them away. Stingray twisted his head to confront them. His mask had been ripped away, revealing a horrific mockery of a human face. Shredded lips and hollowed cheeks, milky white eyes and the whole of it caked with blood. "Ah!" he hissed, "More meat! More converts for the hunger!"

Skull held out his hand. "Stay back," he warned, "We'll try to help you if we can."

"I don't need help," Stingray snarled, "I need meat!"

Stingray's words were hideously ironic because his stomach was gone. A gaping hole extended from the bottom of his rib cage to his waist. His flexing spinal cord could be seen through a tangle of chewed intestines that had just recently been a part of Tigra.

Skull was a hardened veteran of wars both ordinary and strange and he'd never seen anything like the abomination in front of him. Not even the Wendigo had been that savage. He finally understood what it was that had so frightened Michael Morbius.

Stingray looked at Jack Russell. "The wolf boy!" he taunted, "I know you above all would embrace the hunger!"

Jack took a step forward, growling. It was so difficult keeping the wolf at bay. He wanted to give in, to transform into his lupine form. He wanted to rip to shreds the monstrosity that had once been a hero.

"Don't even think about it." cautioned Skull as he fingered the amulet that hung around his neck.

"Then kill that foul thing!" begged Jack, "Kill it!"

A cold hand gripped Jack Russell's shoulder and shoved him aside. It was Simon Garth.

"Who's this?" cried Stingray, "You don't look so good! Maybe the hunger will cure what ails you!" Simon Garth stood in front of Stingray and said nothing, only his wind-blown locks betrayed the fact that he was anything but an impassive statue.

Stingray was confused by Garth's indifference and poked his chest. "Hmm. You wouldn't taste good! Not fresh at all!"

Simon Garth reached out with his cold dead hands and grabbed Stingray's upper arms, pinioning them to his sides. "Not fair!" cried Stingray, "Using a zombie to fight a zombie!" Garth began to squeeze. Stingray's arm bones splintered with a dull crunch. Garth applied more pressure and Stingray's ribcage shattered. Broken ribs speared through rotten flesh and something foul and slippery plopped on the ground. Stingray's sternum fell away revealing a jiggling black heart. His blighted lungs burst and out rolled a stench so foul that even Garth recoiled from it. Garth relaxed his grip and moved his hands upwards to clasp Stingray's head.

Stingray gnashed his jagged teeth, trying to bite Garth's fingers off. "I can still eat you!" he giggled.

"Wait!" called Skull. Simon Garth froze. "How did you get here?" Skull asked Stingray, "Are there others?"

Stingray laughed. "Ha! If the others aren't here now they soon will be! All the supers are infected! Namor got me. Then we ate my friend Ilongo!" He flicked a black tongue at Skull. "I was looking for boats full of meat when I saw your quinjet. I just knew I had to tag along with you! Ha ha! I got here first! First in line at the new world buffet!"

Skull frowned. "No more for you." he said, motioning to Simon Garth.

"No, don't!" cried Stingray, "You don't know what you're missing! The hunger is amazing!"

Simon Garth brought his hands together. Stingray's skull cracked and burst apart. Garth opened and closed his hands, squeezing pieces of bone and curls of brain through his fingers. Finally he stopped. Stingray's ruined corpse dropped to the ground with a wet smack. Jack Russell no longer considered himself a monster. Nothing could top what he'd just seen.

Tigra sat up, a living corpse like Stingray. Her graceful feline features were freakishly distorted now that she was a zombie. She stuffed the remainder of her intestines back inside her savaged midsection and looked at her teammates. "I've been chosen to show you the hunger!" she purred, "Which one of you wants to go first?"

Skull and Jack Russell backed up cautiously.

"Don't run away!" chided Tigra. She sprang forward and landed on Simon Garth's shoulders, one hand resting on his head, the other holding her guts in.

Garth reached up to snag Tigra but even in death she was lightning fast. She leaped at Skull but he countered her attack with a sweeping high kick that sent her flying. She slammed into a finger of jutting rock and slid to the ground in a broken heap.

Skull wore an alien power belt, a relic of his previous adventure on the strange world he and the Legion of Monsters had sought refuge on. The belt magnified his natural strength. His mighty kick had staved in Tigra's ribs and the impact with the rock had shattered an arm.

"Look what you did!" hissed Tigra, looking down at her ruined arm. She twisted the useless limb and wrenched it free, biting through several stubborn tendons to finish the job. "Yuck! I taste awful!" she complained after spitting out pieces of her own flesh. She held the arm up and glowered at Skull. "You want a piece of me? Here, take this!" Tigra hurled her severed arm at Skull then turned and lunged at Jack Russell.

"Jack, watch out!" cried Skull. 

An arc of blinding flame knocked Tigra backwards. Daimon Hellstrom had shot her with a bolt of soulfire from his mystical trident. Soulfire was an occult energy that caused intense pain when it came into contact with a life force. Few could stand its blasts but the zombified Tigra shrugged it off. "I'm not alive, you fool!" she snarled, "You'll have to do better than that!"

The Son of Satan frowned. He pointed his trident at Tigra and a blast of concussive force shot out, bludgeoning her to the ground. "Please, Greer," begged Hellstrom, "Let me help you!"

"I'm beyond your help!" laughed Tigra, "The hunger is all I need!" She struggled to her feet. Her intestines had slithered out and entangled her legs. "I don't need these anyway." grumbled Tigra as she reached inside her abdominal cavity. She tugged on her intestines where they were still attached, pulling them free with a bloody squelch. She tossed the useless innards away and glared at the Son of Satan. "Go ahead and kill me, demon spawn!" she laughed, "Send me to Hell so I can spit in your father's face!"

Daimon Hellstrom hurled his trident at Tigra, running her through and pinning her to the ground. Tigra writhed in fury and tried to free herself but the weapon was anchored too deeply. She rained down curses on the Son of Satan, obscene rantings that would be considered blasphemous even in the realm of Daimon's father.

Skull hung his head. "Garth, end this now."

Simon Garth trudged over to Tigra and raised his booted foot over her head. Tigra spit bile and railed at him. "Do it you pathetic excuse for a zombie!"

"No!" said the Frankenstein monster. He rested a massive hand on Simon Garth's shoulder. Garth hesitated, his foot just seconds away from crushing Tigra's skull. The monster's hand fell away. "Let me end this." he pleaded.

Skull understood. He and the others knew the Frankenstein monster had a soft spot for Tigra. Only she could coax a smile from him. When Tigra was in a playful mood she'd let the patchwork man stroke the fur on her back. He'd almost laugh when the inevitable purring began.

"Stand down, Simon." said Skull. Garth stood silently for a moment then turned and lumbered away, oblivious to Tigra's flailing and cursing.

The Frankenstein monster nodded once to Skull and knelt over Tigra. He caught her wrist as she tried to rake him with her claws. "I am sorry, Greer," he said with resignation, "You were my good friend."

Tigra sneered, blowing bloody spittle through her jagged teeth. "You big freak! I never liked you!"

"Do not struggle," said the monster, the weight of ages bearing down on him as never before, "I will bring you peace."

"No!" hissed Tigra, "Let me show you the glories of the hunger!"

Jack Russell turned away. He couldn't bear to watch. He thought of his sister Lissa back on Earth and hoped beyond reason that she was safe. Flanking Jack was N'Kantu, who silently studied a leaden sky pocked with ash-heavy clouds. Even his ancient eyes refused to brave Tigra's final moments. Skull and Daimon Hellstrom, hardened as they were, also looked elsewhere, their thoughts consumed with an Earth overrun by the hungry dead. Only Simon Garth bore witness, though his cold eyes recorded nothing.

The brutish heir to the legacy of Frankenstein raised a fist. The monster often thought of himself as the ultimate corruption of humanity, but he paled in comparison to the gibbering obscenity Tigra had become. He brought the fist down, smashing Tigra's head open like a rotten tooth.

The Frankenstein monster loosed an agonized roar that echoed through the Valley of Flame, startling birds into flight and giving pause to a young hominid perched on the back of a fiery red tyrannosaur.

Moon-Boy listened until the echo faded away. He had never heard the cry of such a beast!

Chapter Four

A hot wind whirled down the volcanic plain, adding fuel to the blazing funeral pyre that consumed Tigra and Stingray. The Frankenstein monster stood by the fire with with his head down. He hated fire but wanted to leap in after Tigra. He wanted their ashes to drift into the sky together. N'Kantu the Living Mummy tried to console his friend but he was also leery of the flames.

"Come," said N'Kantu, "Back away from the fire."

The Frankenstein monster grunted and continued to watch the flames.

"The fire consumes nothing but an evil vestige of your friend," said N'Kantu, "Greer herself has gone to a better place."

Daimon Hellstrom studied the flames with a solemn intensity. Tigra had been a brave warrior and in some ways reminded him of his long dead sister Satana. Both were gone now and Daimon's world was that much smaller for their loss.

"We have company!" cried Jack Russell, pointing to a glint of silver that streaked throught the sky.

Skull the Slayer found the point of light and followed it with worried eyes. "Looks like a quinjet." he said.

"You think some of the Avengers made it?" asked Daimon Hellstrom as he waved away a fleck of drifting ash.

Skull had been a warrior for too long. He sensed that a very bad situation had just gotten worse.

"That's what worries me," replied Skull with a frown, "We can't afford to let any of those things loose on this world."

The alternate Earth the Legion of Monsters had looked to for safe harbor had its share of dangers but nothing compared to the zombie plague. Not even the war with the Dire Wraiths. Skull drew his sword and studied his reflection in its blade. "Let's check it out. If they're not friendly, you know what to do. No hesitating, no mercy." He looked up at Daimon Hellstrom with a weary smile."And may God have mercy on our souls."

The beast inside Jack Russell tried to claw its way out. Blood was in the air and the werewolf howled in frustration. "Soon," Russell said to himself, "You will run free."

Skull flicked a switch and the quinjet powered up with a roar. "It'll eat up power but I'll leave her in stealth mode," he said, "We don't want them to know we're coming."

Daimon Hellstrom took his seat beside Skull. "I'll run a scan." he said, pecking at the console in front of him. Hellstrom was immediately rewarded with a beep. "Yes, it's a quinjet."

Skull acknowledged Daimon with a nod. Going up against the Avengers was a losing proposition. There was a chance that whoever was on the other quinjet wasn't infected but Stingray's words left him little hope.

Jack Russell stood behind them, too anxious to take his seat. "You think they followed us here?" he asked.

Skull pondered the question. "Since we were running in stealth mode I don't think they know we're here," he replied, "If they did, well, they'd be here."

Russell frowned. "That gives us an advantage, right?" he insisted.

"Normally, yes," answered Skull, "But you're talking about the Avengers. On the other hand, maybe we'll get lucky and none of the heavy hitters are on that quinjet."

Daimon Hellstrom strapped himself in. "You mean like Stingray?" he added. Stingray had been a reserve Avenger, a minor league hero with relatively trifling powers. And yet one of the Legion was dead because of him.

"Everyone settle in." ordered Skull. He turned and looked into the passenger cabin. N'Kantu was pulling the Frankenstein monster aboard. The poor creature looked defeated. Simon Garth had taken up his usual place in the rear of the cabin, his inscrutable face hidden in the shadows. Jack Russell was sitting down and visibly frustrated.

Jack pulled his restraints as tight as he could as if that would hold back the werewolf. The beast wanted out. Wanted revenge.

"We all want it, Jack," said Skull, "We all want vengeance."

Jack Russell's only response was a low growl. He wanted to will the change but now was not the time. Soon the werewolf would be unleashed.

The quinjet lifted off, scattering the smoke coming from the dying funeral pyre and exposing the blackened skeletons of Stingray and Tigra. A lone carrion beast winged its way down and snatched up a charred bone. It quickly spat out the meal and shrieked in disgust. There were things even it wouldn't eat.

Chapter Five

At the far end of the Valley of Flame was a steep hill broken in two by a tumbling stream. From its summit Devil Dinosaur and Moon-Boy could see the village of the Small Folk spread out below them. "There, Devil!" cried Moon-Boy, "There is my village!" Devil growled and stomped his feet. He wanted to share in Moon-Boy's happiness but he knew the Small Folk did not want him around.

Something glinted in the sun, catching Moon-Boy's eye. "Look, Devil!" he shouted, "Look at the shining bird! It is the Strange Folk! They wait for us in the village! It will be good to see them again!"

Moon-Boy slid from Devil's flank and ran ahead in his excitement, bounding along a familiar trail that followed the water down its meandering course. Devil snorted and started after him. His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of something foul. Something was terribly wrong. There was an evil loose in the village of the Small Folk. The scent was not that of the Killer Folk, it was the smell of death. Death that moved.

Skull the Slayer pushed aside the enormous fronds in front of him. The Legion of Monsters stood behind him. Their quinjet was parked miles behind them in an overgrown impact crater hidden by the surrounding jungle. The crater was ancient and strewn with half-buried bones, fragments of eggshell and surprisingly, the remains of a rusted robotic body. Skull had given the junked robot a puzzled glance. Then he'd shrugged. That particular mystery would have to wait.

The Legion of Monsters had made an arduous trek through the clotted jungle that Skull insisted was necessary to maintain the element of surprise. Now the members of the Legion were glad they'd listened to him. Before them were the remains of a village recently plundered. On the outskirts of the village sat a familiar quinjet, the second of the pair Stark Industries had bequeathed the Legion of Monsters.

Most of the villagers were dead, ripped to pieces and scattered about. A few had been transformed into cackling ghouls who playfully splashed through pools of blood, snatching up pieces of meat like they were gold. Innards were sucked down whole and strips of flesh were ripped from hairy limbs, skulls were cracked open and brains devoured.

"Those are not the Avengers." whispered Jack Russell.

Clustered in the middle of the village were six colorful figures who were definitely not Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Three were well known Spider-Man villains. The deadly Electro and the massive Rhino squatted contentedly in the dirt, gobbling down chunks of bloody meat. The wizened Vulture glided above them, casually munching on a garland of intestines. Occasionally he would spit out something offensive, likely a half-digested piece of vegetation that had been the final meal for some unlucky villager.

Captain America's foe Batroc the Leaper, the French master of savate, was there. His left arm was missing and he was using his right to pluck meaty fruit from inside a disembodied torso. The lethal Taskmaster, a mercenary who used his talent for physical mimicry to serve only himself, was greedily sucking marrow from rent bones. The master assassin Bullseye, long a nemesis of Daredevil, stood in the center of the village with his face buried in some hapless villager's heart. Skull couldn't help but look away.

Daimon Hellstrom nudged Skull and pointed to the other side of the village where a stream wended its way down a stony hill.

Just before the stream reached the village, its course was turned by a low ridge that boasted a sentinel-like boulder. Perched on the giant rock was the troubled and once beautiful thief known as the Black Cat. Blood stained her flowing white hair and a jagged wound could be seen on her thigh. Like the others in the village, she was one of the living dead.

A furry dot bounded down the hill, rushing madly towards the village. The Black Cat raised her arm and a cable snaked from a wrist gauntlet, its hooked end snagging the little hominid. The Legion members could hear it squeal as the Black Cat reeled it in.

Moon-Boy grew more excited as he ran down the hill. Then he saw one of the Strange Folk crouched on the big rock that watched over his village. The Strange Folk was a woman and she had long white hair streaked with red. An elder perhaps? Moon-Boy wondered what mighty powers she possessed. Could she disappear or burst into flame? Moon-Boy sensed too late that something was terribly wrong with the Strange Folk woman. Then she threw a vine at Moon-Boy and snared him, the vine stinging his flesh. Moon-Boy squealed in pain and thought of the deadly snakes that slithered through the jungle. "Devil!" shouted Moon-Boy, "Help me!"

The Black Cat reeled the struggling Moon-Boy in. "You're a noisy little thing!" she laughed. She held Moon-Boy tightly and studied him, delighted at his obvious terror. She licked what remained of her lips. This was one treat she wasn't going to share with the others!

Moon-Boy closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the gods as the Black Cat's blood-caked teeth sank into his breast. His high-pitched screams only increased her feverish gnashing and clawing. Then, with a gurgle, Moon-Boy fell silent.

"This is crazy!" cried Jack Russell, "She's eating that little guy!"

Skull grabbed Russell's arm. "It's too late, we can't save him." he said bluntly.

"Look there!" cried Daimon Hellstrom. A red blur was racing down the hill. A red blur with teeth.

The Black Cat stopped feeding when she felt the ground rumble. She dropped Moon-Boy's corpse and looked up as Devil Dinosaur roared and leaped at her. "Big red dinosaur." she said in amazement. Devil landed squarely on the Black Cat, crushing her beneath his clawed feet. But he was too late. His friend Moon-Boy was dead.

The Black Cat held her head up. Her body was pulped under Devil Dinosaur's foot, her entrails splayed like dead snakes on the blood-soaked boulder. "Look what you did to me, you stupid beast!" she screamed. Devil snorted in disgust and anger as the Black Cat spit out pieces of Moon-Boy in her fury. With an angry flick of his clawed foot Devil skewered the Black Cat's face and brain, ending her hunger forever. Devil shook his foot but the Black Cat's head was stuck on his claw. He growled and scraped his foot on the rock, grinding her head to a foul paste, white hairs clinging to his foot like strands of bloody cotton.

"Incredible!" exclaimed Daimon Hellstrom, "I know that creature! They call him Devil!"

"No more talking!" cried Jack Russell, "Now we kill them!"

Then Russell was gone, sprouting hair and claws and loping towards the devastated village. Skull motioned for the Legion of Monsters to follow Russell. The battle was joined.

Devil Dinosaur nuzzled Moon-Boy's still form and whimpered. His friend was gone. Devil was alone.

Moon-Boy's eyes snapped open, milky white orbs fixing on Devil Dinosaur.

"My friend! The hunger is good!" cried Moon-Boy.

A low moan escaped Devil as he stomped on the thing that had once been Moon-Boy. Then he lifted his massive head and glowered at the village of the Small Folk. More of the evil ones were gathered there, feasting on Moon-Boy's people. Devil loosed a vengeful cry that rivaled the fire mountain's roar. The evil ones were going to die.

Chapter Six

Bullseye tossed away the heart he'd been devouring. Devil Dinosaur's great howl had distracted him from his hunger.

"Did that big red dinosaur just stomp all over the Cat?" he asked.

Taskmaster laughed. "Yeah, more for us!"

Bullseye snarled. "Hey, me and the Cat had some good times when we were alive! Rhino, take him out!"

The Rhino grumbled something obscene. The thought of battling a tyrannosaurus rex appealed to him.

"Wait!" hissed the Taskmaster, "Look over there." He drew his sword and pointed it towards the edge of the jungle where six figures had emerged. One, covered with fur and flashing claws, was racing ahead of the other five.

"I told you they'd probably be here." came a voice from the quinjet.

"Jack!" cried Skull the Slayer, "Wait for us!"

Skull knew that they'd been spotted. The Taskmaster had drawn his blade. The Rhino had been heading for the other side of the village, probably to engage the red tyrannosaur. Now he turned and faced the Legion, an evil smile slashed across his rotting features. Skull had just reached the edge of the village when he saw a dark form soar from inside the quinjet. The figure was instantly recognizable. Things had just gotten a lot worse.

"Good to see you again, Skull," shouted Morbius the Living Vampire as he swooped towards his former teammate, "Join us and pick this world clean!"

Skull said nothing in return. He preferred to attack. His alien power belt glowed and he felt a familiar surge of energy. With a great leap Skull rose to meet Morbius head on. He could see his friend's death-twisted face grinning insanely. How awful it must be for a vampire turned zombie!

Morbius reached out for Skull with bone-tipped fingers, the flesh on his hands receding like a foul tide. "The hunger for flesh is greater than the hunger for blood!" cackled Morbius, "You'd make a fine addition to--"

Skull swung his sword in a wide arc, severing one of Morbius' outstretched arms and lopping off the top of his head. Morbius' skull cap spun away, the upper half of his brain spilling out like an oyster plucked from its shell. Morbius had finally found his cure.

"Well, that was anti-climatic!" laughed Bullseye, "So much for the vampire contingent!"

"Watch it, we have company!" said the Taskmaster, "And he's an ugly one!"

"Who do we have here?" snarled Bullseye as Simon Garth loomed over him. "Which one are you again?" asked the assassin, "The monster or the zombie?"

Garth's only response was silence, his cold hands hanging at his sides. With a flash Bullseye pulled a knife and slashed Garth's throat. Bullseye stared in surprise as the wound magically healed. "Interesting," he said, "How come we can't do that?"

Garth lifted his hands and grabbed Bullseye's neck. He jerked upwards and Bullseye's head came free of his body like a sapling being wrenched from the ground. Holding the head in both hands, Garth broke it open against a knee, unleashing a spray of rank brains and ichor.

The ground thundered. The Rhino slammed into Simon Garth with such force that Garth was launched into the air towards the distant treeline. Only the cawing of bird-things marked Garth's passing as the jungle swallowed him whole.

"Goal!" shouted the Rhino as he watched Garth's broken form sail through the trees, "Too bad the Scorpion didn't make it! He would have loved this place!"

A flash of gold caught the Rhino's attention. A split second later his face was skewered by Daimon Hellstrom's trident. The blinded Rhino scrabbled furiously at the weapon, trying to pull it free. Then he stumbled and fell forward, driving it through the back of his skull. The trident stood like a flagpole in the Rhino's thick head, black blood and pieces of brain oozing down its length.

"Give my regards to my father, villain!" snarled Daimon Hellstrom.

"Daimon, watch yourself!" cried Skull the Slayer. But his warning came too late as Batroc the Leaper attacked the Son of Satan from behind.

"Say hello to the hunger, mon ami!" laughed Batroc as he bit down on Daimon Hellstrom's shouder, ripping out a chunk of bloody muscle. Hellstrom screamed as the hunger invaded him. "No sense in struggling!" said Batroc, "The hunger cannot be escaped!"

Daimon gritted his teeth. He faltered as the hunger battled his unique body chemistry. Batroc still clung to him like a cancer, not wanting to release his victim until the hunger claimed victory.

"Dammit!" snapped Skull. He started towards Daimon but a zombified villager barred his way, snapping its teeth and waving a jagged leg bone as if challenging Skull to a duel. Skull lashed out with his sword, slicing the poor creature's head in two down to its chin.

Skull knew it was too late for Daimon. The hunger spared no flesh. He wouldn't let that happen to his friend.

Daimon screamed as the hunger took over. He could see Skull the Slayer trying to reach him. His lip curled in anticipation. How good his friend would taste! "No!" cried Daimon, "I will not give in! Father take me!"

With a crack of imploding air and a burst of oily smoke, Daimon Hellstrom disappeared. Batroc the Leaper exploded in a gout of fire and ash. The smell of brimstone rolled over the village, mixing with the coppery taint of blood and the scent of fear.

Jack Russell recoiled as Daimon Hellstrom vanished. The scent of his teammate's passing enraged his lupine senses. A curtain of red embraced Jack as he gave in completely to the Werewolf. The hunger was going to pay.

One of the living dead villagers lurched towards the Werewolf, one bloodied hand stretched out. It chattered hoarsely in its native language, no doubt singing the praises of the hunger. The Werewolf lunged at the pathetic little hominid, claws raking putrid flesh. The villager's jaw went flying in a shower of blood-caked teeth. Another slash and its face was ripped open. The Werewolf howled in delight as it tore the little zombie to pieces.

"That was one of my children!" bellowed the Vulture as he flew down to confront the Werewolf. He landed and held out his arms, inviting the Werewolf to attack. The Werewolf obliged by lashing out with his claws. In the blink of an eye the Vulture was disemboweled, his intestines sloshing to the ground like fish from an overturned bucket.

"Sorry, but those aren't exactly vital anymore!" sneered the Vulture. The Werewolf howled in frustration and tore open the Vulture's rib cage, revealing his rotten innards. A stench like that from a shattered tomb rankled the Werewolf's flaring, spittle-flecked nostrils.

"Teeth are all I need!" said the Vulture. He managed to snag one of the Werewolf's flailing hands, biting off two clawed fingers with a meaty crunch. The Werewolf howled in pain as blood gushed from the ragged wounds. "Welcome to the hunger!" laughed the Vulture after swallowing the severed digits with a single gulp. The Werewolf dropped to the ground and hurtled away, clutching his hand, a blood trail marking his retreat. "You're one of us, now!" the Vulture called after the Werewolf, "One with the hunger!"

Skull the Slayer brought his sword down on another zombie villager and its hairy face exploded in a riot of brains and shattered bone. How many of the vile creatures were there? Skull watched the wounded Werewolf vanish behind a cluster of huts. His team was falling fast. He had to finish it. His blade whistled through the air and beheaded another of the little zombies. Skull skewered the head in midair and flung it away. He was furious now and his alien power belt glowed more than it ever had before. Another slash and another little head rocketed away on a great splash of black blood. Skull focused his rage on the Taskmaster. "You!" he cried, "Your hunger ends now!"

The Taskmaster turned and faced Skull. "The hunger never ends!" he said with a leering grin. Skull lunged towards the Taskmaster, his sword drawn. The Taskmaster parried. Their steel clashed again and the battle was on.

The Vulture hovered over the ground, wary of the fighting beneath him. He had watched as Skull the Slayer slaughtered his "children." No matter, they'd been nothing more than a passing fancy. The tiny apes were hardly deserving of the hunger after all. He patted his ribcage back into place and wondered with dark amusement if there was duct tape to be found anywhere on the world they'd invaded. Then he felt a tug on his ankle and looked down. N'Kantu the Living Mummy glowered back.

"Your reign of terror is over, fiend!" rasped N'Kantu as he took up the Werewolf's mantle.

The Vulture laughed. "No, yours is about to begin!"

"Your disease will find no purchase in my dessicated flesh." replied N'Kantu as he pulled the Vulture down to the ground.

The Living Mummy took the Vulture's head in his hands. He began to squeeze. The Vulture felt his skull crack. "Enough!" he cried as he batted N'Kantu's hands away. "Welcome the hunger! Become one of us!"

The Vulture snapped his head forward, his teeth biting into N'Kantu's shoulder. N'Kantu looked at the ragged bite wound. He felt an odd sensation as the hunger coursed through his dry flesh. Could he be infected?

N'Kantu felt the hunger dying inside him as his dead flesh repulsed the zombie virus. An almost evil smile crossed his bandaged face. "I am already cursed," he said to the Vulture, "So your hunger rejects me." N'Kantu reached inside the Vulture and ripped out his meat-bloated stomach. He tossed it to the ground where it burst apart in a miasma of putrefying flesh. "Now I've ended your hunger." said N'Kantu in a voice as dry as the desert wind.

"That's not going to do the trick!" said the Vulture, "The hunger is in the soul and that is not so easily destroyed!" He kicked N'Kantu away and flapped his wings, trying desperately to get away.

N'Kantu lunged forward, his arms encircling the Vulture's waist. The Vulture struggled but N'Kantu refused to let go. "And so the Mummy had a great fall!" cackled the Vulture as he flew higher into the sky until both he and N'Kantu were obscured by a haze of volcanic smoke.

The Frankenstein monster strode through the devastated village. He had seen his share of carnage but nothing compared to the horror of the zombie infestation. He had watched his teammates fall one by one. First the tragic Morbius, than Simon, Daimon, Jack and now N'Kantu was gone, taken by the mad Vulture. Only Skull the Slayer was left. He had decimated the zombie villagers and was now matching blades with the Taskmaster. The monster turned to Electro, who was hurling bolts of electricity at the red tyrannosaur, trying to keep the enraged creature at bay. The dinosaur skirted the edge of the village, taunting Electro by taking shelter behind trees and huts. Electro laughed maniacally as his bolts set the village ablaze. If not for the dampness of the jungle, it too would have become an inferno.

"You!" grunted the Frankenstein monster to Electro, "Time to die!"

Electro turned and stared at the Frankenstein monster with an evil smirk. He was missing an eye and most of one cheek was gone.

"Die?" said Electro, "Already done that!" He held his palms out as if to ward off the Frankenstein monster. "Chew on this!" he laughed as he unleashed another barrage of electricity.

Jagged bolts of power ripped into the Frankenstein monster. Electro let his hands drop and the currents of electricity faded away. The Frankenstein monster still stood. His clothing was smoking but he was otherwise unharmed. In fact, the monster looked stronger than ever before.

"Oh, crap." said Electro.

"There is a reason I picked you." said the Frankenstein monster, "Electricity makes me strong!"

The Frankenstein monster backhanded Electro's head, knocking it off. A single jet of black blood squirted from the wound as Electro's body spasmed and flopped to the ground. The monster followed Electro's tumbling head like a football player running after an errant ball. Catching up to the head, he ground it to a paste, grinning with satisfaction as Electro's brains oozed out from beneath his boot.

Skull the Slayer and the Taskmaster were still locked in deadly combat and the Taskmaster seemed to be winning. The Frankenstein monster hurried towards them. He stopped to stare at the corpse of the Rhino. The Rhino's body was still twitching as if his extremities had yet to receive the news that he was well and truly dead. The monster reached out and plucked Daimon Hellstrom's trident from the Rhino's head. With a plunge of his foot he crushed the villain's skull. The twitching stopped. "That was for Simon." declared the monster as he wiped his gore-caked boot in the dirt.

Hefting Daimon Hellstrom's trident, the Frankenstein monster closed ranks with Skull.

High in the sky the struggle between the Vulture and N'Kantu the Living Mummy continued.

"Let go of me you cursed thing!" cried the Vulture, "I must be free to spread the hunger!"

N'Kantu hooked an arm around the Vulture's neck. The Vulture increased his struggles. Suddenly his wings were buoyed by an updraft of hot air. The Vulture looked down. The maw of the volcano beckoned, reaching out with bubbling tendrils of lava.

"If there's one thing I learned from old movies," laughed the Vulture, "It's that mummies can't stand the heat!"

The Vulture kicked at N'Kantu, trying to dislodge him.

The Living Mummy smiled one last time. "Yes, it is time for both of us to burn."

N'Kantu reached inside the Vulture, grabbing hold of his spinal cord. He twisted the bony column, wrenching it almost in two. The Vulture's legs went limp.

"Stop!" cried the Vulture, "The hunger begs you!"

N'Kantu pulled harder on the spinal cord and the Vulture's head lolled. His arms flopped uselessly, folding his wings and sending both of them plunging towards the mouth of the volcano.

N'Kantu closed his eyes. The heat felt good, even as it burned him. The paralyzed Vulture could only manage guttural cries of terror. Then they both vanished into the lava with a sizzle.

Skull the Slayer blocked a blow from the Taskmaster's sword. Behind the villain, in the distance, Skull saw the tiny forms of the Vulture and N'Kantu disappear into the mouth of the volcano.

"Good for you, buddy." thought Skull with sadness.

"Getting tired?" taunted the Taskmaster, "I can keep this up all day!"

Skull forced a grin. "I've been doing this for a long time. Don't count me out yet!"

"I know all your moves!" snarled the Taskmaster, referring to his photographic reflexes, "I can take you any time!"

Skull cursed and lunged at The Taskmaster but the villain deftly blunted Skull's offensive. The Taskmaster pivoted on one foot, kicking Skull's legs out from underneath him with the other. Skull landed on his back and his sword went flying. Dazed, Skull reached for the weapon but it lay just out of reach.

The Taskmaster poked Skull's chest with his blade. "You're a prime candidate for the hunger!" he said, "But really, I don't want the competition!"

Skull knew he was seconds away from death. "Bastard! I'll see you in hell if we're not already there!"

The Taskmaster grinned. "If this is hell it sure is fun!" Then he jerked as his chest was skewered by Daimon Hellstrom's gleaming trident.

The Frankenstein monster stood behind the Taskmaster, a savage look on his face. He twisted the trident and the Taskmaster dropped his sword and shield. "Looks like I'm stuck!" he said, "Take me in, copper!"

Skull got up and dusted himself off. "It's over!" he snarled, "I'm going to burn you for what you've done!"

"Can I have a few last words?" asked the Taskmaster, "I'm asking as one soldier to another." He bowed his head in deference.

Skull paused and then nodded warily.

"Sonic hand grenade." said the Taskmaster with a laugh.

Blam!

Skull's ears rang. The Taskmaster was infamous for his arsenal of weapons, including sonic hand grenades. Skull knew he never should have hesitated.

The Frankenstein monster stood next to Skull holding Daimon Hellstrom's trident. "He's gone." stated the monster flatly, "I was too slow to catch him."

Skull shook his head. "I see him." he said, pointing towards the other side of the village where the second Legion quinjet was parked. The Taskmaster turned and saluted them, then vanished inside the aircraft.

"It's too late. There is no time to stop him." insisted the Frankenstein monster as the quinjet powered up. But Skull the Slayer was already running. The monster looked down at his hands. The trident was gone. Skull's sword was stuck in the ground in front of him, quivering like a jack in the box. The monster sighed. He had spent what seemed an eternity cursing the day of his creation, now he prayed to the gods he so hated. The evil had to be stopped.

Skull knew he wasn't going to make it. His alien power belt was glowing again but even that couldn't make him run fast enough. Then a red blur bounded across the village. It was the tyrannosaur, the one called Devil.

Devil Dinosaur leaped and snagged the quinjet's wing in his dagger-like teeth, holding on with his powerful jaws. The quinjet sagged and keeled over, causing Devil to lose his grip. The great saurian dropped to the ground with a roar as the quinjet righted itself. The engines were done powering up. The Taskmaster was going to escape.

Skull had one chance. His belt was glowing white hot. He hurled Daimon Hellstrom's trident as hard as he could. A sonic boom rocked the Valley of Flame as the trident broke the sound barrier. A split second later it pierced the quinjet's fuel cells. The quinjet disintegrated in a massive explosion that knocked even the Frankenstein monster off his feet. Flaming debris rained down, pelting the few survivors. The sound of the blast echoed up and down the Valley of Flame, putting to flight even the most brazen beasts of the jungle. 

The Frankenstein monster sat up and swatted a burning ember from his coat. The whole village seemed to be ablaze. Through the smoke he could see Skull the Slayer wandering in a daze. The giant red dinosaur was sniffing the air and growling. The monster's eyes caught a furtive movement. Something else was still alive in the blasted village and it was headed straight for Skull.

Skull's head throbbed. The Taskmaster's sonic hand grenade and the explosion of the quinjet had taken a toll on him. His ears rang and the smoke from the fires stung his eyes. His body ached for rest. Skull knew he was in bad shape and hoped the fighting was over. He had lost so much already. He didn't know if he could go on.

The Werewolf slipped from a cloud of rolling smoke like a phantom, milky white eyes focused on Skull. He was one with the hunger, a zombie.

"Take it easy, Jack." said Skull in a voice just above a whisper. Then the ground started to shake. Was the volcano erupting? Could the day get any worse? Skull stood on unsteady feet, his head lanced with pain. He had to finish it one way or the other. Skull held out a hand as the Werewolf moved towards him. "Fight it Jack!" he pleaded. But Skull knew it was too late. Jack Russell was gone.

The undead Werewolf ignored Skull's words and snarled, baring his fangs. Then the earth below their feet ceased its rumbling. The Werewolf jerked his head sideways as Devil Dinosaur looked down at him with blazing eyes. Devil brayed and whipped his tail around, broadsiding the Werewolf and sending him flying.

The Werewolf landed in a jumbled heap, his spine shattered. Skull the Slayer locked eyes with Devil Dinosaur. "Finish him off." he said wearily.

Devil understood. He thundered over to the mangled Werewolf and raised a giant foot. The Werewolf lifted his head, hissing and gurgling blood. Skull closed his eyes. He had seen enough horrors for the day.

Chapter Seven

Skull the Slayer sat on a rock and watched the funeral pyre burn. Most of his team was gone. Even Daimon Hellstrom's trident had vanished, likely vaporized in the quinjet explosion. The weapon was a huge loss. Skull didn't think his sword would do much good against a zombie Hulk.

Skull hung his head. He was tired of death and flames and yet he knew his battle had just begun. He thought of his friends back on Earth. Jeff Turner and Ann Reynolds, who had shared in his previous adventure on this other world. The enigmatic sorcerer Doctor Druid, who served as his advisor in all things mystical. His martial arts instructor Shang-Chi, who had taught him so much. His friend and mentor the adventurer Dominic Fortune, whose age hadn't tempered his fighting spirit. The grizzled World War II veteran Mike "Combat" Kelly, who had told him to never stop fighting, no matter how bad things got. The vigilante Frank Castle and the mercenaries Marc Spector and Paul Denning, who had fought by his side during the Skrull invasion. Brother Voodoo, wherever he'd vanished to after turning over leadership of the Legion. His drinking buddy Ben Grimm, also known as the Thing of the Fantastic Four. Skull would even be happy to see that odd little cigar-smoking duck who had once applied for membership in the Legion. Were any of them alive? Was there anyone or anything to go back to?

The Frankenstein monster tossed another load of body parts in the fire. Devil Dinosaur squatted nearby, head tilted, entranced by the ashes floating in the air. Every once in a while he would blow on the ashes to scatter them. Perhaps he was sending Moon-Boy on his way to the spirit world?

Devil Dinosaur was a curiosity to Skull. Like Daimon Hellstrom, Skull had studied data shared with the Legion of Monsters by the Fantastic Four and others and what he remembered posed a question.

Skull recalled that the big red tyrannosaur and a humanoid companion had somehow been transported to the present. After some initial confusion, followed by a shared adventure or two, Reed Richards had sent the dinosaur and his little friend back to what he thought was their own time. Skull now understood that the alternate Earth he and the Legion had escaped to was Devil's home.

But that in itself was a mystery for Skull had been to Devil's world before. In fact, he'd been trapped on it for several years. Skull had found his alien power belt on one of his many adventures there. He had battled aliens and other anachronistic threats, as well as scores of mighty dinosaurs, though he'd never run into Devil. What a mysterious and fascinating world it was!

Skull had decided to leave Devil's world. It had been a mistake to run and hide. He wanted to return to his own world and avenge it. He would retrieve the Golem if it hadn't been destroyed by the zombies. Then he would search for the other members of the Legion of Monsters. If he could find Brother Voodoo they could raise the Colossus from the ocean floor. The giant statue would be a great help. Surely no zombie could stand up to it. That was a long shot though. Skull knew he would probably die. He was no match for the likes of the Avengers or the Fantastic Four. But he had fought too many battles for his world. He would not abandon it.

A cold hand gripped Skull's shoulder from behind. "Good to see you again, Simon." said Skull with a smile.

Simon Garth looked none the worse for his encounter with the Rhino. No matter what bodily damage Simon incurred, the magic that had created him always healed him. Skull figured Simon could withstand just about anything short of a nuclear explosion. And maybe even that.

The Frankenstein monster turned from the fire. He was glad to be done with his work. "That is all of the bodies," he said to Skull, "And Devil says none escaped."

Devil Dinosaur snorted and raked furrows in the earth with his claws. He was anxious to leave the blighted village. "We will leave soon enough, my friend," said the Frankenstein monster, "But first I must say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" asked Skull, "You're not coming with me?"

"No, I am sorry but I have decided to stay here with Devil," said the monster, "He needs a friend and I like this world. And now that Simon has returned, you will not be alone."

Skull nodded. Baron Frankenstein's mad experiment was a good fit for Devil's world.

Devil Dinosaur and the Frankenstein monster were leaving the Valley of Flame when the quinjet roared overhead. The monster stopped and watched it rocket away into the distance. Then he turned and patted Devil's leg. "Come my friend," he said, "Show me the wonders of this world!"

Chapter Eight

In the dimension known as Hell, the fallen angel called Satan waited impatiently. He stood on a spire of flame-scorched rock and watched with milky white eyes as demons of all types gathered below him. Their one shared trait was the hunger.

Satan raised his arms to embrace the slavering horde. "The hunger is great!" he cried, "Spread the hunger!"

The zombie demons chanted in unison. "The hunger is great! Spread the hunger! Eat! Eat! Eat!"

Dimensional portals shimmered among choking clouds of sulfur and ash. The majestic realms of Asgard and Mount Olympus could be seen in the haze. There was also the Microverse, an Earth overrun with Martians, the strange planet Crystallium, and many, many more.

A zombified Daimon Hellstrom stood beside Satan with a malignant grin etched on his dessicated face. He brandished a new trident, its points dipped in demon blood tainted with the hunger. The zombie demons were ready now, and restless. Daimon pointed his trident at one of the portals and Satan nodded. Together they would lead their army of the dead. No world would be spared the hunger.


End file.
